Chapter Text
Lucifer was in the middle of regretting several things when Alastor walked into his room without knocking.
Not because he was surprised. That part had stopped being surprising days ago.
No, the problem was that Lucifer had just finished changing and was standing by the mirror in the most atrocious pair of pajamas he owned: soft, pale, overly decorated, and humiliating in a way that felt personal. He had only put them on because they were comfortable and because nobody was supposed to see him in them, which had always seemed like a reasonable enough system.
Alastor froze in the doorway.
Lucifer froze too.
Neither of them moved for a second.
Then Lucifer’s face burned with instant, furious offense.
“Leave.”
Alastor blinked once, then slowly let his gaze drift over the pajamas with unmistakable amusement. “Well,” he said at last, “this is humiliating for you.”
Lucifer stared at him in horror. “I said leave.”
Alastor’s smile widened. “That depends. Are you asking me to leave because you’re embarrassed, or because you’ve suddenly developed shame?”
Lucifer pointed sharply at the door. “Out.”
Alastor did not move. “You do look rather adorable.”
Lucifer made a sound of pure disgust. “Do not call me adorable in these.”
Alastor’s expression remained smooth, but his eyes had that awful little glint they got when he was enjoying himself far too much. “Why? Do the ducks on them lessen the effect?”
Lucifer made a sharp, offended noise and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you say one more thing about these pajamas, I’m throwing you out a window.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
“You would, wouldn’t you.”
Alastor stepped farther in, shutting the door behind him with infuriating calm. Lucifer immediately narrowed his eyes.
“Why are you here?”
“To protect you.”
Lucifer looked down at himself with visible regret. “Oh, is someone going to attack me in the middle of nowhere with these pajamas? Alastor, this is not the moment.”
“It’s certainly a moment.”
Lucifer glared. “You are impossible.”
“And yet you keep allowing me into your room.”
Lucifer frowned. “That is not an argument.”
“It is if you’re wearing duck pajamas.”
Lucifer almost reached for something to throw at him. “Get out.”
Alastor looked at him for a long second, and for once his smile was not quite as sharp as usual. “You say that often.”
“Because you keep doing things that deserve it.”
“I’m doing nothing wrong.”
Lucifer scoffed. “You just walked into my room uninvited and started insulting my sleepwear.”
“Those are crimes of taste, not morality.”
Lucifer stared at him, incredulous despite himself. “You are a menace.”
Alastor’s smile returned, but it had shifted into something lighter. “And you’re flushed.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed immediately. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes. You are.”
“No. I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Lucifer opened his mouth, then shut it again. That was worse, because he could feel the heat in his face now and knew he was not winning this. Which was annoying. He hated being easy to read.
Alastor seemed to enjoy that fact far too much.
He moved a step closer.
Lucifer instantly leaned back against the edge of the vanity, because apparently his room had decided to betray him by having furniture in all the wrong places.
Alastor noticed, of course. He always noticed.
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Do not start creeping toward me like that.”
“I’m merely walking.”
“Toward me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Alastor’s smile took on that maddeningly calm quality it always had when he knew exactly what effect he was having. “You seem very upset.”
“I am upset.”
“About the pajamas?”
“Yes.”
Alastor glanced at the duck print. “That seems reasonable.”
Lucifer stared at him with visible rage. “You are doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“Acting like this is the funniest thing in the world.”
Alastor’s smile softened just enough to make Lucifer hesitate. “Is it not?”
Lucifer should have said no.
He should have been firm, annoyed, proper, severe.
Instead he looked at Alastor and thought, with sudden and deeply inconvenient clarity, that he did not want him to leave.
Which was absurd.
Which was dangerous.
Which was maybe the reason his chest felt strange.
He frowned hard at that thought and did what he always did when a feeling became too much.
He became more irritated.
“If you’re done mocking me,” Lucifer said, “get out of my room.”
Alastor’s gaze flicked over his face. “You’re very committed to that line.”
“It works.”
“Does it?”
Lucifer’s glare deepened. “No, apparently not with you.”
Alastor chuckled softly, then walked past him in a slow circle, looking at the room as if he had never seen it before even though he was in it constantly. Lucifer turned to track him, glaring the entire way.
“Stop circling me.”
“You’re the one standing in the middle of the room.”
“I’m in my own room.”
“Yet I’m the one being accused of snooping.”
Lucifer crossed his arms tighter. “You are snooping.”
Alastor turned back toward him, now standing near the bed, and Lucifer had the brief, irritating thought that Alastor had chosen that position intentionally. Not too close. Not too far. Just close enough to make the whole room feel smaller.
“snooping,” Alastor repeated. “That seems harsh.”
“It is accurate.”
Alastor looked at him for a moment, then glanced again at the pajamas. “You do realize they are very distracting.”
Lucifer’s expression became deadly. “That was not a compliment.”
“No?”
“No.”
Alastor’s smile widened. “What a shame.”
Lucifer was one second away from physically dragging him out when Alastor’s hand lifted, very casually, toward the little duck-shaped decoration sitting on the side table.
Lucifer stopped dead.
“Don’t touch that.”
Alastor’s hand hovered.
Then, because he was a pest and apparently enjoyed suffering, he picked the duck up anyway.
Lucifer’s entire face changed.
“Put it down.”
Alastor looked at the little figure in his hand and turned it slightly. “Why, it’s adorable.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed to slits. “That is not the point.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
Alastor raised the duck a little higher.
Lucifer pointed sharply at it. “Put it down.”
Alastor did not.
Lucifer took a step forward, clearly offended now in a way that was almost impressive. “Alastor.”
“Yes?”
“I am going to ask this one more time.”
Alastor’s smile spread with open menace. “Are you threatening me over a duck?”
Lucifer looked like he might actually combust. “It is my duck.”
“It is a tiny duck.”
“It is my tiny duck.”
Alastor raised it higher still, just enough to be unbearable.
Lucifer glared at him with the full force of a king who had absolutely decided this was now a matter of principle. “Put it down.”
Alastor tilted his head, smiling all the while. “Why? It’s adorable.”
Lucifer’s jaw tightened. “I already told you that is not the point.”
“And I already disagree.”
Lucifer took another step in, and now there was very little space between them at all. He could have reached for the duck if he wanted. But Alastor had somehow turned the whole thing into a challenge and Lucifer hated how much he wanted to win it.
“Give it back,” Lucifer said, quieter now, but more dangerous.
Alastor looked at him with that infuriatingly composed expression. “Say please.”
Lucifer went very still.
Then he narrowed his eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I enjoy many things.”
“This should not be one of them.”
“And yet.”
Lucifer reached out to snatch the duck, but Alastor lifted it away just slightly, keeping it out of reach with the kind of infuriating ease that made Lucifer want to grab him by the collar and shake him. Which was an entirely unacceptable thought, except it had arrived already and now he was stuck with it.
Alastor noticed the movement in Lucifer’s face. Something shifted in his expression then, not much, but enough to be interesting. He lowered the duck by an inch. Lucifer stared. “What?”
Alastor’s smile was still there, but quieter. “Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.”
“It is.”
Lucifer folded his arms. “You’re hiding something.”
“I often do.”
“That is also annoying.”
Alastor glanced at the duck again, then back to Lucifer. “You look rather serious over such a small thing.”
Lucifer’s expression softened into irritation. “It’s not small if it matters.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
He and Alastor both went still.
Lucifer realized, a little too late, that he had just said something much more telling than intended.
Alastor’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion but in attention, and that was somehow worse. He looked at Lucifer like the sentence had meant more than the duck ever could.
Lucifer immediately regretted everything.
“That is not what I meant,” he said.
Alastor’s smile barely changed. “No?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
Lucifer scowled. “You do that all the time.”
“Do what?”
“Make everything sound like you know something.”
Alastor held the duck loosely in one hand, still not giving it back. “I usually do know something.”
Lucifer stared at him, then at the duck. “You are unbearable.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
Lucifer opened his mouth to bite back with something sharp, but the words stalled. Because he was still here. In his room. Looking at Alastor. Letting him stand that close. Letting the conversation keep going. Letting the whole thing turn into something that felt like more than teasing.
That was the problem.
He should have been annoyed.
He was.
But under that, under the irritation, under the embarrassment, there was something else. Something that had become harder to ignore with every passing chapter. Something that made his gaze keep returning to Alastor’s face, his hands, the line of his smile.
He wanted to keep talking to him.
He wanted him to stay.
That thought hit so suddenly it nearly knocked the breath out of him.
Lucifer looked at Alastor and realized, with growing horror, that the reason the man being in his room felt unbearable was not because he wanted him gone.
It was because he didn’t.
Alastor was still watching him.
Lucifer’s mind stumbled over itself.
Alastor noticed immediately.
That was the worst part.
His gaze sharpened just a fraction. “Sire?”
Lucifer snapped back into himself with all the grace of a collapsing chandelier. “Give me the duck.”
Alastor blinked, clearly not expecting that to be the result of whatever had just happened in Lucifer’s head. “Pardon?”
Lucifer made a vague motion with one hand, as if trying to reclaim his dignity through force of will. “The duck. Give it.”
Alastor looked at him for a long second. Then, at last, he lowered the duck and set it carefully back on the table.
Lucifer exhaled, though it did not help.
The room felt charged now in a way it hadn’t before. He could feel it in his shoulders, in the way he stood, in the fact that Alastor was still looking at him too closely and Lucifer didn’t have the slightest idea how to pretend he was not completely off balance.
He turned away fast and reached for the tea set on the dresser just to do something with his hands.
“Don’t just stand there,” he muttered.
Alastor’s voice came behind him, softer than before. “You asked me in.”
Lucifer stiffened. “I did not.”
He needed a distraction.
Now.
So he grabbed the cup, busied himself with the tea, and said, far too casually, “You should try this.”
Alastor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Tea?”
“Yes.”
Lucifer poured with exaggerated care, then turned and held the cup out like a challenge. “Taste it.”
Alastor looked amused, but he took the cup anyway. Lucifer watched him the entire time, hating how closely he tracked every movement.
Alastor took a sip.
Lucifer tried not to look too eager. Failed, probably.
“Well?” he asked.
Alastor lowered the cup slowly. “You’re trying very hard.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “That was not a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“That makes it worse.”
Alastor gave a small, almost thoughtful hum. “Your tea is very earnest.”
Lucifer stared at him. “Earnest?”
“Yes.”
“You sound like a critic.”
“I am evaluating.”
Lucifer crossed his arms. “And?”
Alastor tilted the cup in one hand and looked at him over the rim of it. “And I’m deciding whether your effort is charming or tragic.”
Lucifer’s face tightened. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’ll get.”
Lucifer should have been offended.
Instead, he found himself staring at the way Alastor held the cup, the way his fingers curved around it, the way he looked in Lucifer’s room with such infuriating ease that it seemed like he belonged there.
That thought made Lucifer’s throat feel tight.
He looked away before he could think about it too much.
Alastor’s voice shifted, very mildly. “You’re blushing again.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Lucifer turned back, offended all over again. “I am not blushing.”
Alastor smiled. “You are.”
Lucifer felt the heat rise in his face and wanted to die. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Alastor set the cup down on the dresser and stepped closer.
Too close.
Lucifer instantly leaned back, which would have been far more dignified if there had been anywhere to lean except the wall.
Alastor’s gaze flicked over him, just once. Then back to his face.
“Do you do that to everyone?” Lucifer snapped, because he needed the words out of his mouth before he thought better of them.
Alastor’s smile sharpened into something wicked and almost pleased. “Only the ones I enjoy irritating.”
Lucifer stared at him.
That sentence should not have landed the way it did.
It shouldn’t have made his stomach drop and his mind go strangely still and his chest feel tight enough to be painful.
He should have been insulted.
Instead, he was too aware of the fact that “enjoy” and “you” and “irritating” had all been put together in a way that made him feel like the center of something he did not understand yet.
Lucifer swallowed.
Alastor noticed that too.
Of course he did.
The room went uncomfortably still for one second, and Lucifer realized with a jolt that they were very close now. Not by accident. Not because the room was small. Alastor had come near him intentionally and Lucifer had not stepped away quickly enough.
That meant something.
It had to.
Lucifer looked at him and suddenly remembered the tea, the duck, the way Alastor’s attention seemed to follow him around the room like a hand at the small of his back. None of it had felt random in ages. He had simply been refusing to name why.
Because naming it would make it real.
And it was already real.
That was the horrible part.
Lucifer’s thoughts tumbled into place with awful clarity.
He liked Alastor’s voice when it softened.
He liked when Alastor looked at him for too long.
He liked when Alastor followed him.
He liked when Alastor touched him with that careful, deliberate sort of attention that made every little thing feel more important than it should have.
Did he really ?
Lucifer stared at him.
Alastor stared back.
The realization seemed to make the air heavier. Or maybe that was just Lucifer’s pulse trying to escape him.
He should have said something clever.
He should have hidden it.
He should have done literally anything except stand there and think, with growing panic, that Alastor was far too close and he did not want him to move away.
That thought was the one that finished the job.
Lucifer went very still.
Alastor’s expression changed just slightly, enough to suggest he had noticed the shift. “What is it?”
Lucifer couldn’t answer immediately.
Because now he knew. And knowing meant there was no going back to pretending the way he looked at Alastor was just annoyance.
Alastor waited.
Not pushing. Not joking. Just watching.
That was somehow worse and better than everything else.
Lucifer looked down at the cup, then at the duck, then back at Alastor.
And because he was Lucifer and because he was trying not to implode, he said the first thing that came to mind:
“You’re standing too close.”
Alastor’s eyes flicked to his face. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Lucifer’s voice came out sharper than he wanted. “Yes.”
Alastor tilted his head, gaze steady. “Then why haven’t you moved?”
Lucifer froze.
That was unfair.
That was cruel, in the exact subtle way Alastor did things when he already knew the answer and wanted Lucifer to stumble into it on his own.
Lucifer opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Alastor’s smile was faint now, almost thoughtful. “You seem rather occupied.”
Lucifer had no defense against that.
Not a real one.
Not one that wouldn’t give him away.
He turned away abruptly, because he needed a second to remember how to breathe. “Stop talking.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re making it worse.”
“Making what worse, sire?”
Lucifer shut his eyes.
Everything.
The room.
The duck.
The tea.
The pajamas.
The awful, undeniable fact that Alastor following him around and hovering too close and looking at him like that had gone from irritating to irresistible in the span of far too little time.
Alastor was standing right there, oblivious or not oblivious enough, in Lucifer’s room, in Lucifer’s space, making the whole world tilt in that direction again and again until there was no denying it.
Lucifer looked back at him slowly.
This time, he did not look away first.
Alastor’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Lucifer could feel his own heartbeat in his throat.
He had no idea what to do with this.
None at all.
But at least now he knew why every moment with Alastor had started feeling like something he was trying very hard not to lose.
And that knowledge, inconvenient as it was, made the room feel less like a prison and more like a confession waiting to happen.
Neither of them said a word.
The duck sat untouched on the table.
The tea had gone cold.
Lucifer, still in the ridiculous pajamas, looked at Alastor and realized he might be in trouble much deeper than embarrassment now.
Because embarrassment could be fixed.
Feelings could not.
And he had one of those.